“Is this the sick girl?”

For a moment Bessie’s face was scarlet, and there was a frightened look in her blue eyes as she regarded her visitor, who continued, very gently: 

“I am sorry to find you suffering so much.  My nephew Grey has been sick all the voyage, or I should have been down here before.  What can I do for you?”

“Her nephew Grey!” Bessie repeated the words to herself, us she stared in bewilderment at the face bending over her, recognizing in it, or fancying that she did, a resemblance to the face which had looked so pityingly at her by her dead father’s bedside, and which, whether waking or sleeping, haunted her continually.  Was this woman Grey’s Aunt Lucy, of whom she had heard so much? and was he there on the ship with her, and would he know by and by that she was there and come to see her?  Then she remembered Neil, and her promise to let no one know who she was, lest he should be disgraced.  So when Miss Grey sat down beside her, and taking the hot hands in hers, said to her, “Please tell me what I can do for you, and pardon me if I ask your name,” she sobbed piteously: 

“No, no—­oh, no!  I promised never to let it be known that I was here, I am not ashamed, but he is, and I can tell only this—­I am very poor and am going to America to earn my living.  I had no money for a first-class ticket, and so I came in here.  They are very kind to me, Jennie and Mrs. Goodnough.  I am going out with her.  Are you an American?”

“Yes; I am Miss Grey, from Allington, I will help you if I can,” was the reply, and then Bessie’s tears fell faster, as she cried: 

“Thank you, no.  You must not talk to me.  You must not come again.  Please go away, or I shall break my promise to Neil.”

The name dropped from her lips unwittingly, and Miss Grey repeated it to herself, trying to remember why it seemed so familiar to her, and as she thought and looked wonderingly at the tear-stained face, the impulsive Jennie broke in: 

“An’ plaze yer ladyship, if you’ll go away now and lave Miss Bessie to be aisy for a little, I’m sure she’ll see you again.”

“Bessie!  Neil!” Miss Grey repeated aloud, and then she thought of Grey’s friend, Neil McPherson, and remembered there was a cousin Bessie of whom she, too, had heard.  Could this be she?  Impossible; and yet so strong an impression had been made upon her that as she passed out and met Mrs. Goodnough, who, she knew, had the young lady in charge, she said to her: 

“I hope you will let me know if I can do anything for Miss McPherson.”

“Did she tell you her name?” Mrs. Goodnough asked, in surprise, for Bessie had confided to her the fact that, as far as possible, she wished to be strictly incognito on the ship.

Miss Lucy was sure now, and with her thoughts in a tumult of perplexity and wonder, she hurried away to the state-room of her nephew.

CHAPTER VIII.